


ten tines

by mladvey



Category: Hollow Crown (2012), Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: Halric, M/M, lol pls this is my first upload sigh, whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mladvey/pseuds/mladvey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hal searches for a trophy in the woods. He ends up finding something entirely different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ten tines

“The hart of ten,” Hal says, taking the reigns of his horse. It huffs as it comes to a stop, and his attendant stops with him, watching him intently. “This is the year, the day, that I shall take one for my own. Not _par force_ , not by any other means but my arrow. I swear it, good sir, this day I will take down a glorious stag and take home a trophy for all to see!” 

His servant, William, laughs. “Good luck, your worship. I believe it is any man’s dream to ever fell such a wonderful beast. Be wary, though - we approach the outskirts of the hunting grounds, and to be lost after dark is something no one wants, even if it means a hart of ten.”

“Oh, do not bother yourself with such things,” Hal responds, slowly digging the heels of his boots into the horse’s sides, causing it to slowly trot forward. “We will make our way back before sundown, that is, with my kill in tow.” 

William shakes his head with a smile, ushering his horse forward. “Your confidence is key, I am sure.” 

“Is that a jest?” Hal turns back to him, returning the smile. “You do know who I am, good William.” 

“Oh, no my lord, not a jest by any means.” His attendant responds with a small laugh, and they both advance further in the forest, the sounds of their party’s hounds slowly fading with each step until they fade away entirely. 

It is early spring, and though the weather is warm, the winter chill still lingers in the breeze, causing Hal to shiver and hold his cloak closer to his chest. The birds, after months of absence, are now singing loud and beautifully above the treetops, and Hal curses them for a moment, wishing they would be silent so he could hear for the sound of the stag in the forest. Hal looks desperately in the soft earth beneath their horses for any sort of sign, any sort of hooveprints made by his targeted prize only to become disappointed. The only sort of prints he could make out were the ones made by horses or hounds. Hal sighs, and William takes note, smiling up to him. “We will find him,” he says, and Hal smiles back. 

“Oh, we will. Do not take me for a quitter.” Hal says with a grin, and William laughs. 

“We both know you do this to please your father, the king.”

Hal snaps his head to the side and glares at William, the sudden movement slightly startling his steed. William swallows the sudden surge of bile creeping up his throat. Sometimes he forgets his master’s legendary temper when they are together like this, when they talk so casually. William had begun to associate Hal’s temper with the king, but it seems that no one is safe from his temper, no matter how fond the relationship.

“That _is_ too bold,” Hal says with a snarl, and in this moment, Will can swear that Hal is no more than a beast. “And you would do well, dear William, to never speak of my father in my presence again. Furthermore, you will never make the assumption that I am in any way trying to prove myself to him. There is nothing to prove! I am who I am, and he must accept it! I am the next in line to the throne, and if he does not like it, he can surely go to--”

Before Hal could further curse his father’s name, there is a snap in the forest. The both of them stiffen and turn their heads towards the sound in hopes of finding the source, but the forest is far too thick for them to see any sort of signs of life. Hal’s breath seeps from his lungs as he searches for movement.

Another snap. 

The two of them turn their heads frantically, the horses silent beneath them. Another snap and a rustle of underbrush. Hal turns his head towards a small clearing and squints his eyes in the failing light in order to make something out of what he sees. Then, a stag emerges from the brush, grunting and pushing his nose through the grass beneath him, completely unaware of his fate. _But_ , Hal thinks, _is this the right beast? Is this my prize I have sought after for all this time_? 

_Is this the hart of ten_?

Hal turns to William and waves his hand at him to gain his attention. “Will!” He mouths, “quickly!” His attendant looks up to see the stag, eyes widening and scanning the rack adorning the beast’s head. “Sir,” he says, barely even a whisper. “There are...there are ten...”

Turning his head as quickly as it allows and looks at the beast. Hal looks over to Will, motioning for him to give him his bow and quiver of arrows. After observing the stag for a moment, Hal stopped. Good Lord, Will was right. There are ten. Ten tines to the antlers.

Hal’s heart stops. The beast is perfect. 

It must be his. 

As silently as he could, Hal slips from the saddle of his horse, Will quickly following suit. The soft earth beneath them makes no sound as their boots hit it, and Hal turns to Will without taking his eyes off his prize. “Give them to me!” He mouths, taking the bow and quiver from Will’s hands. The prince shuffles quietly over to a clearing that gives him a clear view of his target, and with a very long sigh, he loads his bow. The string of his bow grates against the nook of his arrow as he pulls it back slowly. The limbs of the bow ache and groan, and Hal hisses at the unwelcome noise, but the stag shows no mind, and Hal continues to stretch the string until the point of the arrow reaches the rest. 

The stag moves to graze, and his breast is exposed. Now is the time to act. 

Hal takes a deep breath to steady his shaking hand. Time stops, everything is silent, yet Hal’s brain is full of noise. He can feel beads of sweat collecting on his brow as he tries his best to concentrate, as he tries to focus in the quickly failing light. Finally, he releases his breath. His finger slowly let go of the fletching, and then a tiny drop of sweat rolls from his brow and into his eye. 

_Damn_.

Hal recoils at the stinging pain, and before he releases his arrow fully, his neck tilts up, his body following suit. The sound of an arrow whistling through the air fills Hal’s ears, and then a loud thump. Hal knows he has failed, he knows that the stag has probably ran off by now, and he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he stands. 

“Nice shot, your grace!” William says, and Hal knits his brow together. 

“What ever do you mean?” He asks, his tone sharp. “If you mean to heckle me, then please, do not!”

William’s face displays confusion, and Hal only mirrors the expression.”My lord,” Will speaks first, “you fell your prize. Do you not see?”

The prince looks towards the clearing and sees a sight he did not expect. The hart of ten had fallen, arrow protruding from its breast. Hal’s breath hitches, and he slowly begins to move towards the beast that he so luckily killed. But, as he came closer, he noticed something. The fletching on the arrow was crude and spaced as if it had seen years of wear and tear. The wood was warped and waterlogged, he could see that, and still had knots from the original wood kinking the shaft.

The arrow he had loosed was brand new. It had never been used, as was the custom of royal hunting. 

Hal was unsure of what to think until he saw something move within the brush and into the clearing. A man. His skin was dark with dirt and sun, hair splaying across his face and sticking to his skin because of the sweat and grime and toil from the day. But what sent Hal into a rage is when he saw his clothes--if one should even call them clothes. He was a peasant, a nobody, hunting on royal grounds. 

“You!” Hal yells as the man grips his hands around the shaft of the arrow to pull it out of the beast’s breast. “You are hunting on royal grounds! It is against the law!” 

The man laughs a boisterous and mean laugh. “This isn’t the royal grounds.” His diction was coarse and thick. “You passed that a few miles back, friend.”

“What?” Hal says, his voice laced with rage. “How dare you assume--”

“This area is only about a mile out from the village. The king specifically designated public hunting grounds for the village...it’s a three mile radius. Do the math. I’m within public hunting grounds. You are, too. You aren’t so privileged around here.” He cuts Hal off as he picks up the buck, hauling it over his shoulder and onto the back of his horse, which was hidden well within the forest. Hal’s blood boils as he sees this man so easily claim the kill when it was so clearly stolen from him.

“Do you know who I am, you ignorant prick!” Hal yells, and some birds scatter at the sound of his voice. “Do you know what I can have done to you?”

“No,” The man says as he mounts his mongrel of a horse. “And I don’t care to know who you are, truthfully. I’ve got people to feed. I assume you only wanted this for his tines. I’ll have you know this will feed a family of a dozen. So, maybe that will make you sleep better tonight. Goodbye.” The hunter snaps the reigns and his horse moves forward, off into the distance and disappears before Hal can yell and threaten him further. 

Speechless, the prince falls to his knees. “Your highness,” Will says, placing his hand upon his shoulder, which Hal shoves away angrily. “We should head towards the village. It is late, and we will not make it back to the castle in time.”

“Fine,” Hal says, standing quickly and dusting off his breeches before turning to his horse. “Maybe I can find that hunter and give him what he deserves.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was doing research one day for a class on Medieval Civilization and I came across the tradition of the hunt for royalty. Well, long story short, I came up with this tidbit a very long time ago and only recently finished it. It had been sitting in my word documents for, I don't know, months and then one night I decided to finish it. Kind of. Anyways...
> 
> Some little facts that you might have wondered about whilst reading: 
> 
> - _par force_ is a term for hunting when hounds are involved. Like, when people hunt for foxes, they have dogs that track the scent. Well, they did this for stags sometimes, too.   
>  -a hart of ten is basically another phrase for a stag with ten tines, or ten prongs on his antlers.
> 
> Sorry in advance if I post the rest of the chapters very haphazardly. I am hoping that publishing this on something other than tumblr will give me the motivation.


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